


Porcelain doll

by bellamavi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Fluff, Legal Peter, Lonely Peter Parker, Lonely Quentin Beck, M/M, NO rape, Pole Dancing, Protective Quentin Beck, Silly Tony Stark, Smut, Stripper Peter Parker, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-10-25 14:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamavi/pseuds/bellamavi
Summary: Peter's sweet little secret is not a secret anymore, and so is Quentin's sweet little crush.





	1. nobody can know

Loud, electronic music was slowly driving him crazy. The bass was strong enough for him to be sure his ears were going to suffer the whole next day. He had to admit though, the drinks they were serving were incredibly delicious, he’s never had anything close to it in his life. That’s why he decided to order another one, this time something spicy; also he wanted to escape for a moment from his disgusting acquaintances having fun watching a poor girl giving them a little show, taking off her clothes for money.  
He really wasn’t into that; this whole watching a stranger getting naked, making ‘sexy’ moves and trying to get his attention like he was the only one that mattered. It was so artificial, unnatural, everything that turned him totally off. Apparently he was the only one in his work place who thought this way, maybe except his boss, who said “Yeah, I’ve grown out of this stuff long ago” when he was invited for this party. He on the other hand couldn’t say no to the no-name loser, the author of the sweet idea of having a bachelor party at the most expensive strip club in the city. If he did, he would probably get the worst of it, since these people were cruel and relentless. It was all about it, the position and the contacts you had in this company. You couldn’t just not show up to someone’s bachelor party and pretend they don’t know how much you hate them all. He couldn’t just say no, for his own sake.  
He said yes and could still pretend.   
“Quentin, won’t you wait for the big star to show up? It’s your sixth drink!”   
Another person he hated made a comment about his drinking that night. He tightened the grip on his glass discreetly.   
“I’m fine. My head’s pretty strong, don’t you worry about that, Scott” Quentin gave the man a fake smile. They were all too drunk anyway to notice, and yet the guy had the audacity to point out Quentin’s sixth drink.   
When the girl finally got off the stage the staff prepared for them, Quentin checked his watch when no one was paying attention to him. Now was the time for the ‘big star’ of the show. He wondered who would that be – there were some familiar faces he had seen, but no one really important to him in any way. He was no one to judge, he would take this job as well and make some good money if he wanted, but it was absolutely not his thing. He respected the employees, wouldn’t like to be one though.   
He decided to just sit and wait patiently, scrolling down his phone and reading what was new to the world of Twitter, while his companions ordered another set of drinks and couldn’t stop talking about everyone who gave them a short show that evening. Quentin despised them purely. He couldn’t wait to go home and text his boss, who was his friend for years, “That was horrible. Please don’t let me go anywhere like that again.”   
They were friends, the man he was working for had all the power in the world to make the brainless douchebags disappear for Quentin’s sake, but they both knew it was impossible. Who would work for him then? Training and obtaining trust always took years, possibility of getting any serious internship was close to a miracle.   
Working for Tony Stark was indeed something.   
It wasn’t a big deal after all, so Quentin came to the party. Even though he felt like vomiting, hearing all the sexist and disgusting comments about the employees, coming from people who had spouses, kids or spouses and kids.   
The lights at the stage and the music went off. Quentin raised his eyes and laid them on the dark structure of it. He put his phone in his pocket and just waited in silence, because that’s all he could do at that moment.   
Then the blue light went on, and a dark figure was sitting on a chair, the back of it facing them. The mysterious big star had their legs spread, pleaser shoes on their feet. Quentin noticed the well built thighs and slim calves, then the short hair and slightly muscled arms. It must have been someone young, someone who took care of their body and was definitely attractive.   
When the music started, the dancer got up in a very sensual way, putting the chair away with one arm. Quentin tried to guess the gender of them, and all he could say was that it was a person of a masculine silhouette. Flat chest and thin hips, all he could observe. Their face was still impossible to see, the shadows covering it almost completely.   
The closer the dancer was to their table, the more Quentin could see of them. He was the only one silent, almost motionless and calm. He just observed, out of pure curiosity.   
But when he saw the person’s face, he froze in his seat. Nothing could erase the image that dig into his mind – Stark’s private intern, a secret to everyone in the office except him and Quentin, and your friendly neighborhood Spider-man himself, using his flexibility to move on the pole most of the people just awkwardly danced around to please the customers. He could see it in his face that he didn’t want to be here, but apparently something or someone made him, and it was obvious it wasn’t his first time around the pole.   
Quentin had to admit one thing. Peter was extremely good at what he was doing.   
Stark’s employees craved to touch him, but they knew they’d be kicked out of the club immediately. There was no tolerance for non-consensual physical contact between the dancer and the customer. Quentin internally laughed at them, acting like animals with wild instincts, trying to be as close to Peter as possible.   
Peter teased them, obviously, but there was no genuine pleasure he could take in it. He probably counted every second there was left until he could leave, and so did Quentin. He needed a cigarette, he needed to process what he was witnessing and think of the right way to talk to the young man. It wasn’t his business at all, of course, but… he couldn’t just drop it. Peter was a smart kid who didn’t deserve working somewhere he clearly hated to be. Quentin wanted to know who made him do it, find that person and probably break their nose.   
The song he danced to came to an end, Peter bowing in front of them, exhaling deeply. The blue and pink lights changed to one steady yellow one, exposing Peter completely. Quentin noticed sweat covering his skin and the fishnets he was wearing this whole time. He had to admit one more thing, Peter looked amazing in that black tight outfit.   
Catching his breath and looking at his audience, he knew he was unknown to these people. At least he thought so, until he noticed that one man with a beard and his hair slicked back, sitting on the left edge of the big narrow couch they all took.   
He used all his strength not to make a single grimace that would let Quentin know he was shocked and scared. Although he would always say Quentin was a rather laid-back guy, it was still awkward and could ruin Peter’s life at this point.   
It was time for him to go off the stage, so he did. Taking the chair with him, he disappeared and went straight to his room, locked the door behind him with his own key and sat in front of the mirror. He looked at himself and took a deep breath. What was he going to do now?   
Quentin got up, felt his legs stretching and headed straight to the back door, where people usually went for a smoke. He lit one of the last cigarettes he had and leaned on the wall behind him, one hand in his pocket, another holding the blue Marlboro cig.   
A few seconds later someone joined him, but Quentin did not care that much. He changed his mind when he noticed white Nike sneakers that person was wearing.   
Peter always had them on.   
He lifted his gaze to look at the boy’s face. Peter seemed desperate to light his cigarette, his hands shaking a bit, his body tense. The lighter apparently didn’t work, so Quentin decided to help him out.  
“Do you need a light?” he asked casually, making Peter jump and look at him in fear, the cigarette almost falling out of his mouth.   
“Y-yeah, I… Thanks…” Peter nodded, trying his best to act normal. To act like he didn’t just swing his ass covered in extremely short tight leather pants, and his legs in black fishnets, in front of someone he actually knew, in front of Quentin fucking Beck himself. Like he didn’t just expose his secret, and this secret was much bigger than his Spider-man identity.   
They were both smoking, Quentin’s body relaxed against the wall, meanwhile Peter’s still tense and uncomfortable.   
“You were good in there” Quentin finally admitted it out loud, “Like a real professional. No wonder you’re the most expensive.”   
Peter couldn’t get himself to speak for a few seconds until he eventually responded “Th-thank you, Mr. Beck.”, and then he looked at him straight in the eye, “I’m sorry.”   
The man tilted his head, “I don’t think I understand.”   
“I’m sorry you had to… I mean… You weren’t supposed to know. Nobody is.”   
His voice was shaky, Quentin was afraid he’d burst in tears at any moment.   
“Peter”, but Peter wasn’t looking at him again, so he approached him and touched his shoulder in the gentlest way possible, “Peter. Look at me. Do not apologize to anyone for anything like that. It’s a respectful job just like every other job is, as long as you don’t hurt anybody”, Quentin made a pause, still analyzing Peter’s dark, now wet eyes, “But I can’t shake this feeling that you’re hurting yourself. You looked like you wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible.”   
The boy couldn’t take it anymore and sobbed. He covered his face with one hand, still holding his cigarette in the other. Then he decided to put it out and throw away.   
“Who’s behind this, Peter? Please. Please, tell me.”   
“No one, Mr. Beck, no one. It’s my own choice to be here.”   
Quentin frowned slightly and then raised one eyebrow.   
“Okay” he said softly, “Can I ask why?”   
Peter sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.   
“You know that my internship at Tony’s is free, right?”, the boy laid his hazelnut eyes on Quentin. He was in deep sadness, Beck could tell. “I don’t get any money for being there.”   
Again, Quentin frowned, his eyes wide open now, sharp gaze laid on Peter. “What?”   
They both were in silence. Peter’s hands still a bit shaking, hair on his neck bristled.   
“He doesn’t pay you? At all?”   
“I mean, I knew that before I started working there. I swear, I knew that”, Peter tried his best to stay steady, but the mess he was slowly becoming was bigger and bigger. “I swear, Mr. Beck. It was my choice. Then I realized I don’t have money to pay rent, bills and for food. And I spend usually the whole day at Tony’s, so I couldn’t get a normal part-time. So I… decided I have to work during nights.”   
“And this was the only night shift job that exists? Again, no judging” Quentin shook his head, “But it’s clear you hate this.”   
“I wouldn’t have enough money for anything, Mr. Beck” he stared at the floor, hugging himself since it was getting cold outside. “I really make good cash here, you know? People love me. As you said, I’m the most expensive in this place, probably in the whole city.” Peter run his hands through his hair and sobbed again. “Working here, I can pay for everything. And I still have some left to send to aunt May. To help her out.”   
Quentin realized he still held his burnt cigarette in his hand. He tossed it away and cursed under his breath.   
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He turned away from Peter and hid his face in his one hand. “How could he… I thought you’re getting paid. I never asked because to me, it was fucking obvious.”   
Peter felt shivers down his spine and his whole body trembled. Quentin didn’t think any more, took off his jacket and laid it on the boy.   
“Come on, let’s get you home. I’ll drive.”   
He was too tired and stressed out to protest. Besides, he liked that idea, he was always afraid of all the danger that was present on the streets during the night, especially in the neighborhood of a night club.   
Quentin was focused on the road, doing his best not to look at Peter who was currently nervously texting someone. It was probably MJ, since they would always text each other when they get home or something. Quentin would eavesdrop that fact the other day while searching for something in Tony’s drawers and Peter was telling his boss about his best friend.   
“Which way now?” Quentin asked while getting close to the crossroad.   
“On the left.”   
When they arrived to the flat Peter’s apartment was in, Quentin asked, “Do you want me to come in? Do you need any help?”   
“Wh-What do you mean?” Peter blinked a few times.   
Quentin sighed, shook his head and closed his eyes, “I don’t even know. I’m sorry. I’m still a little shocked, you know.”   
“I, uh…” Peter thought it through and smiled, “You can come in for a drink, if you want. It’s Saturday night after all.”   
Peter walked to his apartment and threw his keys on the nearest table. Took off his shoes, tossed his bag and almost fell on the couch in the living room, sighing deeply.   
“It was a long night. Your friend was my only client tonight, but I had to stretch my body for hours to be as flexible as possible. You know, they paid for the best.”   
“First of all, young man, he is _not_ my friend” stressed Quentin, “It’s a coworker I truly despise. I don’t know if you looked closely, but it was pretty obvious I didn’t want to be there.”   
The man looked at Peter’s furniture and all the stuff he had. It was easier to get to know him this way; he could see the books he read, the movies he liked and everything else he was interested in and had the money to buy and put on his shelves. Quentin walked slowly through Peter’s room and continued chatting.   
“You know, I never pay attention to people’s faces. It distracts me. I prefer just focusing on what I’m doing, and even if it looks like I’m staring you straight in the eye, I really don’t know how you look like and wouldn’t recognize you later.”   
Peter was casually talking about his job and how he worked and Quentin loved it. He loved the way Peter was so calm at last, he was smiling and seemingly glad the man was with him. Even though he just discovered his biggest secret.   
“But you did recognize me” Quentin nodded at him, “And you looked me straight in the eye and thought about who I am.”   
Peter made a big sigh and peeked at the ceiling, “Yeah, but… this was completely different.”   
“You never gave a show to anyone you know?”   
“I did, actually. But when I knew someone like that was in the audience, I’d put on a wig and do some make-up, and they never know” he shrugged, giving Quentin a genuine smile. “But this time, it was you. Someone I know, I work with and someone I didn’t expect.”   
“Fair enough” Beck nodded again, thinking about this weird situation.   
He settled himself next to Peter, so close that he could feel his shower gel he probably used after coming off the stage. It smelled like these funny expensive gels with the scent of ocean breeze or Hawaii flower and oil.   
“I like the shower gel you use. It smells… nice.”   
“Thank you.” Peter got up and looked behind his shoulder, “So, anything to drink?”   
“I actually still have to drive on my way home, so I guess I’ll pass”, Quentin got up as well and stood in front of him, “I’m gonna go. If you need anything, call me. You have my number.”   
Peter had the number of everyone in the company, because Tony often needed him to call random people who had to do something for him immediately at the moment. So yes, he did have Quentin’s number.   
The only one saved as _Quentin_, not just the last name. Even Tony was Boss, because Peter was cheesy and liked the fact he called that one man by his first name in his phone. He couldn’t do that in real life (no matter how much he wished he could) so that was it.   
“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Beck.”   
They went to the front door and when Quentin was about to leave, Peter stopped him by grabbing his arm, “Oh, and, Mr. Beck…”, he continued when the man turned back to face him, “Please, don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell Tony.”   
“I’m afraid Tony already knows about this” Quentin responded pretty quickly, “That’s why he blew off the guy who invited him.”   
Peter’s face showed hopelessness, fear even, of what was he going to do now.   
“And you are aware of the fact he knows.”   
“Please, just… Don’t speak to him about this. Please, Mr. Beck.”   
“Let’s just say I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t tell anyone, no worries.”   
Peter finally let him go and closed the door after a few seconds of watching Quentin’s back. He wanted to cry his eyes out, to call MJ and tell her what happened, but it was 1 AM and she had work on Saturdays in the morning. Changing into pajamas and going to bed seemed like the best option.


	2. peter loves dogs

The weekend was hot and sunny, so Quentin spent it mostly outside, having fun with his dog, exercising and just taking a break from everything on the balcony in the shadow. He really tried not to think about that Friday night, the rage he felt when Peter said the internship was free. His guts twisted at the thought. How could Tony just use this kid? 

Truth be told, he couldn’t stop thinking about Peter. The young, vivid and awkward boy, who never did anything bad, who was so pure and innocent, ready to save the world. That’s why Quentin’s feelings towards him grew systematically, day by day. Seeing him in his small room, sitting and working, his bright eyes always wide open and focused.  
Quentin liked him. And there was nothing he could do about it, considering his age and the fact Peter probably treated him like an acquaintance, older brother maybe. Tony was his father figure, obviously. 

He couldn’t wait for Monday, for blasting into Stark’s office and asking him about all of this. About using Peter as a pushover, someone who would bring him coffee and do paper work and never think about complaining for a bit.

On Monday morning he received a text from Peter. Please, don’t talk to him about this. Quentin just rolled his eyes and hid his phone in the pocket of his jacket before he got into his car. 

Walking into the building was a bit different this time. He saw all the faces of people he spent the Friday night with and he felt, once again, pure disgust. This time he didn’t greet them with a smile, just a simple morning, rushing to Tony’s office. He remembered Peter started his work at 10 on Mondays, so he had two hours to talk to the boss.

“Quentin, you’re alive. I was worried, you’ve been silent the whole weekend”, Tony welcomed him, sitting at his desk with his feet on it, a small laptop in his lap.

“Were you, now. Interesting” Quentin stood in front of Tony’s desk, his hands in his pockets, frowning. “Wish you were worried about other employees of yours as well. Or, should I say, slaves?”

Tony stopped typing and took his glasses off, looked at Quentin and tilted his head, and claimed, “I have no idea in the world what are you talking about.”

Quentin spoke expressfully, every word loud and clear:

“We’ve been to a place, on Friday night. The most expensive strip club in the world. And do you know what I witnessed? Are you aware of what happened?”

After a while, Tony was still staring, unable to say anything. Quentin leaned on his desk, now much closer to him, and continued, now quieter.

“Why you do not pay Peter for his work? Why does he have to make himself go there and shake his ass for all these disgusting perverts every night, hating himself for it? And you’re just sitting there, all wealthy and happy, meanwhile he’s at the edge of sanity, doing something he absolutely ha-“

“Enough!” Tony interrupted him, yelling. He got up from his chair and stood straight in front of Quentin. The man did the same. “Don’t blame me for Peter’s choices. He’s a grown man, he knows what he’s doing.”

“He’s doing it because of you!” Beck exclaimed, “You make him spend the whole week here with you, this way he can’t find any job that pays enough and doesn’t involve old filthy perverts trying to get to him all night.”

Tony went silent, very much aware of losing this conversation. He rubbed his face with his one hand and sighed.

“Look, I talked to him. A dude I know works as a guard here, one time Peter tried to come in through the front door and he didn’t believe Peter was working there so he had him show his ID. He called me later and told me the kid I, uh, hang out a lot with, is a stripper at the club.”

“Your point, Stark?” Quentin was impatient.

“Later on, I tried to talk him out of this, but he said it’s his only way to make enough money. I couldn’t do anything” Tony shrugged, but his feelings were genuine, even though it did not seem like it.

“Bullshit, Stark. You can at least pay him for what he does here. He even brings you coffee out of his own pocket every single morning, goddammit.”

“I said the internship wasn’t for money, because I don’t have enough resources to pay my interns. I never paid them, and they never complained.”

Quentin shook his head, laughing quietly, worryingly at the edge of his control.

“Well, now I do. I’m complaining. Do I have to make it official, or..?”

“For fuck’s sake, Beck!” Tony interrupted him for the second time today, yelling. “I know you have a soft spot for this kid, but please, keep it in your pants, okay?”

He regretted these words immediately. Not saying anything else about this, because he would only make this worse, he looked at Quentin, who seemed… appalled. Beck didn’t want to continue this any longer, since apparently Tony took all his rational statements and converted it into a sexual desire for Peter. He was outraged, fed up with Tony’s audacity and arrogance.

Quentin started walking away; Tony tried to stop him, yelling his name and regretful come ons and I’m sorrys after him, but it was pointless. The man left his office and there was nothing he could do about it, because Quentin would most likely punch him if he tried to talk to him again after such a short time.

At about 10-ish Peter showed up like nothing ever happened, holding Tony’s favorite coffee in one hand and a mysterious second one in the other. Peter didn’t drink coffee. Tony deduced it was for Quentin.

“Thank you, Pete” he said, being handed his drink, and when the boy was about to go away, he stopped him, “Hey, wait. Here.”

Peter looked at a ten dollar bill that Tony was giving him.

“Oh, uh, what’s that for?” he smiled, confused.

“For the coffee, of course. Thought it’s kinda lame it’s always on you. Take it.”

Shrugging, Peter grinned now genuinely, “Alright, thank you, Mr. Stark. It’s nice of you.”

He was almost a hundred percent sure Quentin was behind this. Not sure what exactly they had spoken about, Peter knew something was this morning. Cursing under his breath, he went to Quentin to give him the coffee; they exchanged kind smiles and how are yous, but nothing else. They both wanted to go back to work as soon as possible.

In Tony’s experience, it was the worst Monday he has ever had. Quentin kept a poker face the whole day, talking to him like Tony was his real boss, not a friend, and calling him Mr. Stark, was truly demotivating. Peter felt the tense air between them, but ignored it and acted like he always did – relaxed and focused on his tasks. Later that day, around 5-ish, when he had just few minutes to go home, Quentin approached him quite shyly.

“Hey, uh… I’ve been thinking. Would you like to go on a dinner with me? Any day you like?”

Peter was lost, his face exposing every confused feeling in his guts. “Like, you and me? Together? I, uh, yeah! Sure, I’d like that!”

Quentin smirked, “Cool. I always wanted to do this, but never found the courage. I think I did now.”

That was something that made Peter’s knees go weak like a marshmallow. Quentin always wanted to ask him out. What a coincidence, for the man was on his mind since day one, never leaving his thoughts before Peter went to sleep. Interestingly, he asked him right after that Friday incident, Peter remembered, and he was curious if this had anything to do with it. Quentin probably wanted to talk about it as well, but Peter hoped it wasn’t the only reason. He wanted Quentin to actually like him.

“So, when do you want to meet? I’m available for the rest of the week.”

“Uhhh”, Peter scratched the back of his head, “You know, even today’s fine… The one restaurant next to the library? At seven? ”

“Today at seven. Perfect.” Quentin nodded and touched his shoulder before walking in the other direction, “See you.”

Peter was astonished. A few seconds ago he was asked out by the man who had stolen his heart and mind so long ago. He watched Quentin heading to his office, probably to gather his personal stuff and go home. Peter had to do the same, since he had only two hours to prepare himself, physically and mentally. A shower would be nice. Some money from his piggy-bank and decent clothes would be appreciated as well. But he had no idea whatsoever what to do to prepare his mind for this.

Quentin on the other hand was calm. Sure, he was nervous approaching Peter out of the blue and asking him out, but he had zero reasons in total to be insecure. He figured the boy was crazy for him; obviously, he didn’t mean to use it in any way, he just decided it was pointless to worry about Peter’s answer. He would never use Peter’s feelings to play with him.

Two hours passed for both of them pretty quickly. Peter almost fell in the shower slipping on the wet floor, Quentin went for a short walk with his dog before the date. He didn’t know how long would it take so he wanted to make sure his best friend was taken care of.

He secretly hoped they would end up in his apartment though.

Nothing bed related, he just wanted to spend more time with Peter. As much as possible.

The first one who arrived was Peter. Not because Quentin was late though, it was just that Peter couldn’t wait any longer in his apartment for the right hour to go out. He was tapping at the table nervously with his fingers, searching for the familiar, bearded face through the window.

When he saw Quentin entering the restaurant, his heart dropped. Just like the first time he had seen him in Tony’s office – he felt overwhelmed by Quentin Beck, his assertive attitude, self-confidence and all the body features Peter observed with his spider senses. 

“Hello there” Quentin said, settling himself in front of Peter, “Long time no see.”

Peter laughed at the joke and immediately felt it was so awkward that he wanted to scream and apologize. Maybe just apologize. 

After ordering their meals (the waiter approached them right after Quentin arrived) they chatted about every day stuff, mostly the Stark company. Smoothly, they went talking about coworkers who attended the bachelor party. None of them mentioned Peter’s part in all of it just yet, he only admitted they all looked pretty disgusting when he looked at all of them for the last time before leaving. Quentin told him about every one of them, made fun of the contrast between their skills and knowledge about what they work on, and the poor understanding of the world and its diversity.

“Sexist, racist scumbags. All of them. Believe me” Quentin shook his head, “I want to strangle every one of them literally every day.”

Peter laughed at these words, but he couldn’t help his imagination automatically taking Quentin’s image of choking someone and adding a few corrections. He felt a twitch somewhere down his body, his thighs sticking together, trying to hide anything that could go wrong between his legs. 

“Are you alright, Pete? Did I say something wrong?” Quentin asked, “You seem very uncomfortable.”

“Wh-what? No, I, uh, it’s pretty hot here, I got pretty hot. And I’m hungry” Peter gave him a smile, Quentin returned it. 

“So am I. Before I headed to you, I’d given my dog twice more food than usual, because I don’t really know when I’ll be back, but I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

Peter frowned, “W-wait. Do you… Do you have a dog?”

“Oh, yeah!” Quentin’s face shined with a grin, “I do. He’s seven now. So I have him for a while.”

“That is…” Peter shook his head, actually surprised by his own reaction, “Awesome. I love dogs.”

“So do I” the man agreed. “I love it that you’re totally amazed by the fact that I own a dog.”

“Can I meet him someday?” Peter’s eyes were bright, his grin making Quentin’s guts twist like crazy. 

“Of course. We can come over to my place later, if you don’t mind.”

“Dude, I wanna meet your dog” the boy rolled his eyes, happy to hear he could pet a dog that day. 

The entire time they were eating, none of them spoke about Peter’s job. He supposed Quentin would mention it in his house, so that Peter couldn’t escape so easily. But Quentin didn’t want to lecture him, and he knew that. The man was just worried about his mental health and safety. Making yourself do such things can be very dangerous to your brain, the way you think about and treat yourself. Quentin wanted him to be happy. To have a job he actually wanted. 

“Didn’t you have a drink just now?” Peter asked, when they were about to drive to Quentin’s home. 

“No, I ordered an orange juice. No alcohol.” He frowned and smirked, “I wouldn’t do that, especially when you’re with me.”

Peter slightly melted inside at those words. Though it was pretty normal, not to want to be responsible for someone else’s death. He smiled. 

“Let’s go pet your dog” he beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the previous chapter is edited very badly and i am sorry for that, my lazy ass doesn't want to take care of it  
anyway, enjoy this chapter!!  
also, my boyfriend is a dark fantasy writer, so if you wanna check out his work (i made him post it on AO3 lol) here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782859  
seriously guys, you should check it out!!
> 
> my starker/spiderio tumblr sideblog: petersmoan.tumblr.com


	3. closer

“Be careful, he’s a tough son of a bitch. But he doesn’t bite. If he likes you, of course” Quentin smirked teasingly, opening the front door, not giving Peter any chance to prepare. 

“Leo, meet my date, Peter, Peter, meet my best friend, Leo.”

Leo was barking loudly, his big body chasing around Peter’s thin legs, sniffing. Peter sat on the floor and reached out his hand and waited for the dog’s approval. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“That was quick! Usually he hates everyone I’ve ever invited. He’s all yours now” Quentin was exhilarated, proud of his dog for recognizing a good person.

“Does he hate Tony?” Peter asked, clearly not having thought it through. 

Quentin needed a second. “He’s not here much often anymore. Leo always ignored him.”

“Hm” the boy nodded, wondering about something, then he got up from his knees to face him, “Mr. Beck, can I ask you something? And you’ll answer honestly?”

“Sure thing, Peter. Let’s settle down.”

Followed by the dog, they entered the living room, Peter immediately taking a seat on the couch and waiting for Quentin to do the same. 

“So, I’m ready. Shoot” he said, despite knowing what was on Peter’s mind. 

“Listen, I need to know…” Peter turned in his direction, “The way you and Tony were today… was weird. You called him Mr. Stark, you spoke to him in a very formal language, which is, well, more than unnatural when it comes to you two.”

Quentin took a breath and nodded. 

“I know you talked to him this morning. And I don’t want your relation to be different because of me. I feel responsible.”

The last thing he meant to do was to lie to Peter, so he tsked with his mouth and admitted, “I did talk to Tony. And I didn’t like what he said to me. His explanations were poor and made him look like a total douche who doesn’t care about anything. But he…” Quentin closed his eyes for a moment, sighing, “He made a comment about me and it made me angry. I’ve been mad the whole day. Still am.”

“What comment..?” Peter asked shyly, hoping he would get to know. 

“I don’t think you should hear this-“ stopping in the middle of sentence, Quentin shook his head. “It was awful. I can’t believe it went through his head.”

“Please, Mr. Beck”, his impatience was growing, Peter got closer to the man and tried not to break the eye contact. He could smell his perfume. “If it was about that situation, I should know.”

Beck couldn’t look at him anymore, closed his eyes, then again left then opened, staring at the floor. 

“At the end of our conversation he said something like… I know you’ve got a soft spot for him, but keep it in your pants”, he exhaled. He saw Peter’s eyes growing bigger in disbelief, his mouth about to say something, but he didn’t. “I just went out of his office. He tried to stop me, of course, but I didn’t listen.”

“I’m… I’m pretty sure he’s sorry now, you know? He usually says something bad and then regrets it” Peter rationalized, “It was awful, you’re right, but… it’s not that he doesn’t care about me, Mr. Beck.”

“Don’t defend him, I-“

“I-I’m not defending him! I’m telling you the facts, Mr. Beck! When he found out about my job, he took all the guards from the club and replaced them with his best ones. He assured me that if anything goes wrong, I have to tell him, and he’ll take care of it.”

“Too bad he can’t take care of you in a more decent way, for example by paying you for the internship”, Quentin didn’t hesitate to use sarcasm. He was done with glorifying Tony Stark. 

Peter felt helpless. Didn’t know what to say anymore, because Quentin was right. Nothing could deny these facts he had stated. 

“What am I supposed to do, Mr. Beck? I can’t just leave this job. I have nothing else.” 

Quentin shook his head, “I’m not exactly telling you to quit your job. I want him to start paying you, so you don’t have to be there.”

Sighing, Peter leaned on the back of the couch and following Quentin, shook his head, but he did because of the overwhelming feeling of not being able to do anything about this situation. Tony wasn’t going to start paying him. Nor change the work hours so he could get another job. 

“Do you work tonight?” his body twitched at Quentin’s sudden question. 

“Sorry, what?”, he asked, but he heard him pretty good. “N-no, I cancelled my shift. I didn’t have anything important anyway, and I wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Aww.”

It was past 10 PM when Peter decided he wanted to go home. He explained he needed some sleep before another busy day and night, and it was actually the first whole night he would spend in his bed. Quentin raised his eyebrows at that and without a word of complaint he let him go. It would be merciless of him to tell Peter to stay. 

“I’m glad you took the night off, Pete. Not only I’m feeling special, but also happy you’ll get some sleep” Quentin admitted, caressing Peter’s shoulder when they were standing in front of the door. 

“Thanks, I guess?” he laughed softly, “Your colleague left a big tip last Friday, so I can spoil myself a little now.”

They hugged for goodbye, Peter petted Leo for the last time and directed his steps to the elevator. He was exhausted after the emotional day, both in the office and on his first date. 

Quentin took a long shower after Peter left. Hot water made his muscles relax, him take a deep breath and clear his mind. Right after that, he changed into comfy sleeping clothes and went straight to bed. He needed to talk to the boy the next day, he promised himself that he would. It couldn’t go on like that; in the morning, he was supposed to look Peter in the eye and remember he was going to pole dance the whole night.

Getting up to work was going to be difficult, especially when Peter couldn’t stop thinking of his older friend instead of focusing on sleeping. It made him tired even more, masturbating for the third time that night, because he couldn’t get enough of Quentin. Needless to say, for some people masturbation wasn’t this good of a substitute, and Peter definitely was some people. He wanted to feel Quentin for real, touch him for real, be touched and held for real. He only got a few hours of sleep. 

Buying three instead of two coffees before work made the old lady at the store raise her eyebrows in surprise. The young man would always buy just one, and yesterday just two!   
Tony Stark made a comment as well. 

“Tough night?” he asked casually, and it made Peter upset. Tony didn’t know that Peter got the night off, and he knew how much Peter hated his job. And he dared to ask him if he had a tough night like it was nothing. 

It was the first time Peter got upset over Tony’s ignorance. 

“Actually, yeah, it was tough. I barely got out of this alive” he said with no mercy in his voice. 

Peter put Tony’s coffee on his desk and left right away. He didn’t want to snap and he almost did minutes ago. Tony must have been shocked by his behavior, but he did not give a single damn about Tony at that moment. He remembered Quentin’s words. How right they were. Why Stark wouldn’t pay him? He searched for himself an obedient boy who needed a father figure, and he hit the jackpot. 

He found it hard to control his emotions. Tears started streaming down his face when he was rushing to Quentin’s, to give him his coffee. Before he knocked on the door, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Beck was busy with paper work, and was talking on the phone, so Peter just put the coffee on his desk and left, him nodding as a non-verbal “thank you”. Peter headed to his small room and begun his work as he always did. For free. 

This was basically how Peter’s days were passing, slowly, boringly, with a new unfamiliar emotion towards his boss Tony – anger. He was angry. He was angry that he had to do something he absolutely despised to survive. Following Quentin’s example, he also acted rather formally when Tony was around. Their boss did not like it at all. 

Later that day, he thought about canceling his tonight’s shift at the club, but he remembered he had a big show planned. It was someone’s birthday and their friends decided to book the big star that day. He couldn’t ghost his clients, he would lose his job if he did and he haven’t got anything else to do for a living. 

So he cancelled the whole shift except that one show he had to do. 

In the late afternoon, Peter approached Quentin.

“Hey, um…” actually he didn’t have the time to think it through, but he had to go on, “I, I cancelled my whole shift tonight, except one show I just gotta do, and… I wondered”, 

Quentin listened attentively, “I wondered if you’d like to come and watch. I actually prepared something cool.” Peter shrugged, “I guess.”  
Beck frowned and watched him closely, surprised by his brave proposition. It was so sudden and unexpected he didn’t know what to say at first, and it could have seemed like he wanted to say no. So he spoke. 

“Oh, uh- Wow, I’m actually… I’m actually feeling honored right now”, Quentin smiled, “I’d like to come and see your show. How much do I pay?”

“What? Nothing! I’m inviting you!” Peter gestured at both of them with his hands expressively. 

“Oh, come on, Pete, it’s your job and-“

Peter gestured again, this time at Quentin only, “No no no no, Mr. Beck, I’m gonna stop you right here. I am inviting you over for my show, because…” He shrugged again, shaking his head, since he forgot he can’t tell Quentin about his deep feelings and fantasies about him right now, “Because I like you? And I want you to be there. I got mad at Tony, I wanted to cancel everything tonight, but I thought… I’m gonna do this one show, and I want you to be there. I’ll feel so much better, knowing you’re with me.” 

It was very reasonable and Quentin admitted to himself he’d feel much better, being there for Peter and looking after him. He couldn’t imagine sitting in his couch at home doing anything and knowing the boy was out there, exposing himself to such danger.

Quentin grinned warmly and nodded, “Of course I’ll be there. I can pick you up at your apartment and give you a ride.”

“Really?”, the boy’s eyes opened wide and shined brightly, “Awesome! Pick me up at ten, will ya?”

“Yeah. Want me to bring you some food or anything?”

Peter shook his head, still smiling, “Nah I’m good, thank you. It’s just one show, no big deal.”

They exchanged more kind words and smiles, and parted eventually, their faces happy, looking forward to the evening. 

It was a surprise for Quentin to agree actually, since he hated night clubs and never wanted to have anything to do with them anymore. But this was about Peter and he was ready to give up his views and preferences if that meant he could take care of his friend during work.

Hopefully Peter wouldn’t need this job to live as soon as possible, because Quentin couldn’t spend every night with him at the club. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave him alone in this and sleep peacefully while Peter was stripping in front of disgusting, horny people. It was too much of a deal for him, to keep him safe. If Tony wasn’t going to care for Peter, someone had to. 

As promised, Quentin picked him up at 10 PM. He was dressed casually, his stuff probably packed in the bag he had on his shoulder. After tossing it in the space near his feet, he took the passenger seat. Off they went.

“Will there be some place for me to stay hidden? So no client will see me?” Quentin asked.

“Yeah, sure, there’s gonna be a little of a crowd there, but I’ll find you some place near the stage.”

“Peachy.”

They used the back door for staff only, the guard standing there nodding at Peter after he informed him that Quentin’s a friend. Heading to Peter’s room, they passed by many colleagues the boy said hello to, Quentin observing them with no judge, smiling occasionally. After a brief walk through the corridors, Peter unlocked the door and let Quentin in first, turning the light on right behind his back.

“Feel free to use the bathroom, I clean it one a week”, Peter started undressing in front of the enormous mirror on the wall above a big desk, “And sorry for the hurry, but I really need to stretch myself before the whole thing.”

“Sure, maybe I’ll just wait with the crowd? Don’t wanna bother you.”

“Eeeh, it’s fine” Peter shrugged, giving him a reassuring smirk, “Take a seat, I have some liquids in the cabinet if you want.”

Beck decided to stay sober though. He settled himself on a fancy couch and tried his best not to watch Peter, as he was preparing his body for the performance. He was just in his boxers and a T-shirt, so he could do the full split easily, standing on his freaking arms.

“Woah, you’re so… talented” Quentin struggled to find the right words to describe it, “Flexible. How did you learn that?”

“Ballet school, I guess” Peter chuckled when standing on his one feet first and then the other, finishing the split, “Been attending since six.”

“Impressive. I said it before, but I’ll say it again, no wonder you’re the most expensive. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Beck.”

After the stretching and a few exercises to avoid contusions, Peter asked his older friend to join the audience, because he wanted to present himself on the stage. It was meant to be a little surprise, you could say. So Quentin obeyed and left the room, heading to the main hall. When the door closed again, Peter changed his boxers to more revealing black panties, sat in front of the mirror and put a bloody red lipstick on. Leaving his face and eyes clean (he never liked the idea of full make-up), he chose to wear black pleasers with hidden toes and the front of his foot mostly exposed. The rest of his clothing he searched for was in the closet he had requested a few months ago.   
Little did Quentin know what was going to happen. Following Peter’s orders, he walked to the main hall and settled himself near the stage, so he could see everything clear. People here were making a lot of noise, deconcentrating Quentin from his thoughts. He truly hated places like this. 

At last, the lights went off, the crowd whistling and yelling of course, and when they went on again, Quentin saw Peter standing there, facing the audience. His face was half covered in shadow because of the big black hat he was wearing. At the same time, a slow rhythm on drums played. When the vocalist started singing, Peter moved his hips to their voice. Quentin thought about that song, he kind of recognized it, but it must have been a cover. It sounded way heavier than the original. But then he focused all his senses on the boy who was now closer to the audience, still moving his hips, now touching them. He threw his hat away, revealing his red lips. His baggy clothes were kind of swinging with him; it was part of the plan, he knew they loved his body and he teased them a lot with his choice of outfit. 

A while before the chorus, he stood there with his legs spread, going down with his ass, and suddenly all standing straight again. Finally the chorus of the song kicked in and he literally ripped the shirt off himself, making the crowd go crazy. Walking away from them, he moved his body sensually, making Quentin forget his name. Peter still had his pants on which were long enough to hide the pleasers he also wore. The song was getting more and more aggressive, and so were Peter’s moves. When he tore his pants apart, exposing his underwear and shoes, people started to yell at the top of their lungs at him. In the lights, his black choker with silver spikes shined, along with other collarbone-like chains he had put on. Quentin was silent, his face a cold stone, but his insides were burning. Peter was so good at it, he was so handsome and attractive. Little did his fans know about his as beautiful personality and great intelligence. 

Peter now focused on a dancing pole that was placed on the right side of the stage. Complicated poses and spinning around it were the things that he has been mastering for years, and he could actually make it useful there. He also charmed Quentin with all of it; the man was absolutely bought by Peter’s performance. 

Later, when the song was aggressive enough, Peter made a few impressive dance moves, not as sexual as the others, but they were just as arousing for Quentin and the rest. He really got them with his skills. And he did all that wearing fifteen centimeters heels which was a true achievement to Beck. 

The song was finishing with the same drum rhythm as it was beginning, during that Peter was again slowly dancing with his hips, now gathering the clothes he had tossed earlier. He blew a few kisses to the public and gave them a grin when the song ended and he could leave the stage. Through the lights Quentin observed how much of sweat covered Peter’s naked skin. It was hot to see him like that. 

After the lights were back on in the entire hall, Quentin headed to the backstage. Another guard stopped him, refusing to believe he was a friend of Peter Parker. 

“Come on, man, ask the other guard, he saw us together-“

“Get the fuck outta ‘ere, man.” The guard didn’t even blink. 

“Quentin! Hey Chris, it’s okay, he’s with me!”

There he was, slippers on his feet and a bathrobe covering his body, Peter assured the guard it’s all fine for Quentin to come in. Surprisingly for the man, Peter took his hand and led him like that back to the room. It was probably the most of what he has touched Peter and it felt good. Holding hands with him. 

They went inside, Peter closed the door and sighed, “So, how was it? Did you like it?”

At first, Quentin was just staring at him, trying to make a sound, failing. He finally nodded and spoke, his voice a bit shaky and shy, “Y-yeah, I loved it. You’re amazing. Did you, uh, was it all your idea?” 

“Yup, they told me to do something big for tonight, sometimes every one of us has to, and now it was my turn”, Peter explained, sitting in front of his mirror still in his bathrobe, facing Quentin. He watched the man for a while and guessed, “I intimidated you a little, didn’t I?”

“Uh, well,” Beck chuckled, “Maybe. I just didn’t expect anything like this. Neither did I expect to like it that much.”

Peter nodded, visibly content with that answer, “I see. Well, I liked it better knowing you are with me. I felt more comfortable.”

Exchanging awkward smiles and short kind sentences was their tradition now, probably. Peter got up from his seat, took his slippers off and put them in the closet in order to take his previous casual clothes to wear. Obviously, he felt confident enough to take his bathrobe off as well, leaving himself in boxers only. Quentin didn’t mind, but at the same time he used all his internal strength and will to lay his eyes anywhere but Peter’s body. After a few minutes, he was all set and ready to go.

“I’ll give you a ride home, that goes without saying.” Quentin’s words made Peter grin uncontrollably. 

“Thank you, Mr. Beck. You’re so kind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Peter danced to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmbI150NABA
> 
> i love you all, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!!!
> 
> my starker tumblr blog: petersmoan.tumblr.com  
my boyfriends original story you should check out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782859


	4. bosom buddies

The last time Quentin was this impressed and aroused at once was probably when he read his first porn magazine in middle school. But this and Peter’s performance were incomparable, no need to mention that. Nowadays, Quentin found it pretty difficult to be gob-smacked, nothing was really interesting enough for him to fixate on. Notwithstanding, that night changed it a bit. Apparently Peter’s got something in him that made Quentin question everything he has ever believed in and forget his name. The feeling was, indeed, intense.

Quentin daydreamed about Peter later that night in his bed. After driving the boy back home, he came back to his place, took a long warm shower and went straight to sleep. But sleep seemed to evade him, as he counted every moment his penis twitched in his pants whenever Peter made a particular move on the stage. Thinking of his slim, muscled legs and peachy butt, exposed through the panties, was going to be the death of Quentin. How was he supposed to wake up at 6 AM and go to work? And actually do any working?   
For Peter, it was the most stressful show and the most comfortable one he has ever had at the same time. He saw Quentin staring when he cleverly stopped at the edge of the stage and ducked in front of the public, spreading his legs; except that one moment, he was fully focused on his performance. A few people threw ten, fifty and hundred dollar tips on him and he happily took it all after the lights went off. 

It was so good seeing Quentin feeling this little, this overwhelmed by his performance. Truth be told, he has never felt that much of satisfaction in his life. He knew how Quentin felt about night clubs, especially those with strippers, and even though Peter didn’t change his mind for sure, he definitely has won him over. Not that he planned it, he just wanted Quentin’s company in this god-forsaken place. But when he saw Beck’s reaction, he took it as a total benefit. 

The next day Quentin Beck was sure it was impossible for him to look Peter in the eye. Nonetheless, he came to work on time, settled down in his office and started searching through the papers on his desk to find the last thing he did the previous day, so that he could continue. Just when he saw the exact thing, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.” The same phrase every time.

Peter walked in with an excited smirk on his delightful face, “Hey, Mr. Beck. Tough night?”

Quentin laughed, sighing, “Don’t even get me started. How do you do that? You’re always so refreshed every morning.”

“Well, I’m not that old”, Peter admitted sarcastically, “And I’m used to it. I would sleep four, five hours a night in high school too.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re the Spider-man. Excuse my poor memory.”

Indeed, Quentin tended to treat Peter like a normal human being, not like a thing to be entertained with. He would always ask Peter about his day, even if he was busy at the moment, he would listen. Even though they never were pretty close, it’s started changing since that memorable night.

“Listen, uh…” Peter finally remembered why he came to the man’s office after all, “I wanted to thank you. For the way you care for me.”

It made Quentin frown a bit and look directly at the boy, “What do you mean exactly?”

“You know, no one actually cared so far for me and for what I’ve been doing for a living. Even aunt May told me whatever it is I do, she doesn’t want to hear about it as long as I have something to eat.” He scratched the back of his head, looking at the floor; clearly that phone call with May was still making him sad to this day, “You’re the only person I know that talked to me about it and listened. I appreciate that.”

“I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling every time you go there and hate everything you see and do, Peter. You’re a good man and as I’ve said a couple of times before, you deserve better.”

Peter nodded, a smile came back on his face, “Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Come on. We’re friends. You don’t owe me anything.”

“But I can buy you lunch today, what do you say, Mr. Beck?” Giving him a kind of a flirty gaze (at least that’s what Quentin observed), Peter asked.

“I can’t say no to that offer”, Beck leaned back on his chair proudly and crossed his arms, “But you must stop call me like I’m your superior or something. Just call me Quentin.”

“Alright, Quentin”, Peter nodded, “See ya.”

It was a truly bizarre feeling, to call him by his first name. Now he was the second person to be allowed to do that in this building right after Tony. Everyone else had to show him respect directly, otherwise they would face consequences. Though Quentin once explained that strange hierarchy to Peter, saying “You know, it’s pretty hilarious that the man I invite over for a night to play video games can’t do nothing when it comes to help me hold my position in this company. I have to do everything on my own, and they all can easily destroy me. Just like I can destroy them.” Peter has always admired him, his knowledge, intelligence and creativity, he knew Quentin must have worked hard to achieve what he had now. The admiration Peter felt was one of the things that made his heart skip a beat whenever he thought about Beck.

Exhausted, that was the word Quentin would use to describe his current state of mind and body. The way Peter Parker handled working all day and night (literally) was surprising to him. After finishing his coffee, he headed to the small restaurant at the lowest floor of the building. Unconsciously, he fixed his hair while walking out of the office. He saw his boss standing in the corridor, talking to someone, nodding and listening carefully, until noticing Quentin. Tony excused himself and promised to call the man later, and run towards his friend.

“Hey, Quen-“

“No.” Beck quickly interrupted him, his steps full of confidence, refusing to look at Tony.

“What? Quentin! I’m talking-“

“Not even close.”

Luckily for Tony, no one witnessed this situation. Confused and pretty shocked, he gave up chasing Quentin and just stood there, watching his friend’s back while the man was going away.

Quentin had to go all the way down the building to reach the restaurant. Peter was already settled, two cups of unknown beverages on the table. He waved at Beck encouragingly.

“This is my fourth today, you know that? And it’s just noon” Quentin pointed at the cup which turned out to be filled with coffee. “Thank you, of course.”

“I think you should go to sleep early today” Peter smiled, adding sugar to his black tea, “You really look like shit.” When Beck gave him a critical glare as a joke, he tried to fix what he’d just said, probably making it worse, “I mean, just kidding, even when you’re exhausted, you’re still magnificent.”

“Magnificent! What a choice of words. I’m flattered.”

Peter’s cheeks turned red immediately, his forehead starting to get sweaty. He was so thoughtless with his words sometimes, especially when talking to people he cared about too much. Whether it was MJ who he was driving crazy with his babbling or Quentin, who he was making smile kindly and laugh at his awkwardness.

Shaking his head slightly, he said “I-I am so sorry, Mr. Beck, I…”

“Peter. Relax. I’m nothing you should be worried about. Also, it’s Quentin.”

Actually, you’re everything I worry about, Peter thought. Every glance, every movement, every word escaping his mouth, he worried about it, because he wanted Quentin to want him. And the number of ideas he had how to do it was close to zero. 

Little did he know that he did not need any ideas whatsoever.

“Let’s eat something, at last. I’m starving.” Quentin looked in the bar’s direction. “I’ll get you something, is that cool?”

“I invited you, not the other way around, though” Peter chuckled, “I’ll go and pay.”

“Not happening.” Before Peter could stop him, Beck rushed to the counter. 

At least he managed to pay for coffee. 

“You should really let me buy you lunch.” Peter complained when Quentin came back with the orders.

“It was my turn, kid, don’t you remember? Also, you deserve it after that awesome show of yours.”

Peter forgot to count how many times Quentin had already said something positive about the show. Judging by this fact, he must have loved it deeply. Maybe would like to attend one again. 

“Then I’d better take you to my work every night, so I can have free food every day.”

Quentin made an approving grimace, nodding, “Cool, I’d like that. Though I’m gonna need like fifty extra coffees.”

“Wait, seriously? You up for that?” Peter was indeed astonished by the answer he had got. “I-I was just kidding, I mean, it’d be the coolest thing if you were there with me every night, but…”

Saying that, Peter honestly hoped Quentin would interrupt him, but that did not happen. So he just cut off mid-sentence and shook his head, feeling remarkably stupid. Meanwhile Quentin waited for a few seconds before speaking.

“Listen, Pete. It fills me with joy that you want me on your shows. It means so much. And I want to be there for you, okay?” He reassured the boy. Then he admitted, “I can’t promise you it’s going to be literally every night, but whenever you have something big, I’ll be there.”

Peter grinned. He closed his eyes for a short moment and dropped his head. Then he snickered and looked back at Beck. 

“Thank you. For real, I’m grateful… Quentin.”

The man’s heart melted when he finally heard his own name coming out of Peter’s mouth voluntarily. Exhilarated, they both agreed on the next Thursday night, starting at 11 PM. Peter informed he’d need help with choosing the outfit and music for the show, since he hasn’t thought about it yet. He already pondered about the theme he wanted his performance to have – rather dark (like every other one of his), this time more sensual and less aggressive, though he wasn’t planning on wearing much of clothing as always. Quentin imagined a few scenarios and gave them to him, some better than the others. 

Coming back to his office, Quentin felt it in his guts that Tony was going to try again to catch him on the way. And there he was, standing proudly with his arms crossed, facing Beck in front of the office. He thought it through smartly, blocking the door and forcing Quentin to stop and at least look at him.

Beck sighed, “I’m afraid that is my office.” 

“Indeed. I’m not letting you in, until you talk to me.”

Tony was confident his plan was going to work, but clearly he underestimated his best friend and coworker. Quentin waited a few seconds in silence, then shrugged and started going back where he came from. That made Stark’s jaw drop.

“Oh fuck, come on!” He yelled, but Quentin ignored him. “What is it with you?! Come back here!”

But he didn’t. He decided he was going to take a walk around the building and check later if Tony made peace with the quiet days. Hopefully he was also going to understand the reason of Quentin’s behavior and change his own. Because all Quentin Beck really wanted was for Peter to have a happy life, with a job he actually liked. 

Just like that, Quentin managed to ignore his boss while searching for some papers in the said man’s office, and responding with various versions of “no” or “not gonna happen” whenever Tony tried to catch him on the corridor, for the rest of the week. In fact, when Monday started, Peter was still doing his work in the company for free, so Quentin naturally pursued his strategy. Truth be told, he missed chatting with Tony from time to time, bothering him during work when he was too lazy to do anything, or procrastinating together and catching up with everything at the last moment. Meanwhile Peter, though he was aware of the situation between them, decided to treat Tony like he always did, maybe more distantly than before. Nonetheless, when on Tuesday he was in the laboratory with his boss, working together, Tony took an opportunity. 

“Hey, Peter.” He called.

Peter stopped reading his notes on the table and raised his head. “Yeah?”

He had no actual idea what to say, how to start the conversation. So he went straightforward.

“I’m sure you know that Beck has been ignoring me for a while. I can’t even find out why exactly, since he literally doesn’t respond to anything, except saying no and get off constantly.”

Honestly, Peter couldn’t contain his laugh; he snorted loudly. 

“Funny, yeah. I just want to know what is it with him, and what did I do to deserve that.”

“Well, Mr. Stark”, Peter started approaching him, “I think you know very well what did you do. Or, to be exact, what you are not doing for quite some time.”

He made a sorry face, nodding slowly, in order to emphasize his sarcastic attitude. Then he shrugged, leaving Tony in such a confusion he wanted to burst into laughter. The genius Stark wasn’t so much of a genius after all, apparently.

Finally, Tony sighed, “Listen, I’m working on it, okay?”

This time Peter didn’t look at him, just kept writing something in the notebook, “Working on what, Mr. Stark?”

“On making it happen. Paying you back for all this time of your internship and hiring you, so you can work for me and make good money.”

“Oh my God.”

That was not what Peter had been expecting; he almost ran to his boss, willing to hug him, but then he remembered he was actually mad at him, so he just grabbed his shoulders, and looked him in the eye, “I’m gonna have a job I like, Mr. Stark! No more night shifts at that shithole. Thank you.”

Stark ran his hand through his silver-ish hair and exhaled, “You’re… welcome.” 

The boy was filled with energy and positivity immediately, “And don’t worry about Quentin, he’ll talk to you again as soon as he finds out.”

“…Wait, did you just called him by his name? Quentin?”

Damn.

Peter’s mouth slightly opened, his eyes wide, “Uhh. Yeah, I guess. We’ve been talking a lot recently. We’re kind of friends. I guess.”

Tony nodded, “Figured. He’s a good man, no wonder he cares about you so much.”

Right after finishing his day at the company, Peter called his other boss and cancelled everything he’d had planned except that one show he invited Quentin for. Not having any good explanation prepared for his decision, he mumbled some silly excuses and promised he would talk to his superior very soon about this. Hopefully sooner than later, he thought to himself after they’d hung up. The weird feeling of freedom floated through his brain and gave him chills. To his surprise, it gave him also motivation to go shopping for new high heels for the upcoming show, his last in the entire career of being a stripper. He wanted to look as stunning as possible for Quentin.

He wanted Quentin’s eyes to open wide, his hands sweat and his dick twitch uncontrollably in his pants. 

Listening to one of his work out playlists he trained the whole evening in his apartment. He didn’t want any part of his performance to be boring or casual. Even the color of his lips was important to him; he stood in the bathroom for what seemed like an hour, trying all possibilities he had. Dark blue was one of his favorite, but, in his opinion, too ‘good’ to intimidate anyone. Black has got overrated, pastel pink too cute, bloody red repetitive. Eventually he found a brand new lipstick that’s never been used before. He opened it and honored his lips with a new matte color of red dahlia.   
That was it. He loved the look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaaand another chapter to go! 
> 
> Remember to check out my starker (and sometimes spiderio) blog: petersmoan.tumblr.com   
AND my boyfriend's original dark fantasy story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782859
> 
> see ya folks


	5. in this moment

When the last night of Peter's second work came, the boy was nervous. The thought of Quentin being there in the audience, observing like a hawk, didn't freak him out the last time. But now he was standing in front of the mirror in his backstage room, wearing boxers only, and nearly crying. He was stressed out. He wanted to impress Mr. Beck, he wanted Mr. Beck to feel things for him. Though, he already had some suspicions about the man's feelings. 

The knock on the door pulled him out of his head. Peter sighed and opened slightly, hiding his half naked body. 

"Hey..." 

"Hi Peter, uh, is it too early..? I thought I'd come by already, to help, maybe..." Quentin was obviously just as nervous. The fact they were both attracted to each other like crazy was not a relief. And worse, they weren't sure about each other's feelings. It was such an exhausting confusion. 

"S-sure, Mr. Be-I, I mean, Quentin! Come in!" Peter invited him in and closed the door behind his back. "I'm still in a beta mode, you could say... I've never been this tense before because of the show. It's my last and I..." He was gesturing all the time, looking even more hysterical than he actually felt.

"Peter, hey, listen to me", Quentin approached him, gently putting his arms on the kid's bare shoulders, "it's alright, you hear me? You're gonna blow it. When I came here, I saw a few fans of yours already waiting for you, they know they won't be disappointed. And so do I."

Nodding reassuringly at the end of his speech, Quentin smiled and waited for anything to change in Peter's expression. 

"Thank you", Peter exhaled, "Thank you, really. I'm gonna, I'm gonna do it."

"That's the spirit."

Quentin let the boy free so he could search for his clothes in the wardrobe. While Peter was leaning into it and desperately throwing everything out, because he couldn't find those heels he had bought, Quentin used all his strength to resist looking at Peter's butt. He craved to stroke it, squeeze it, spank it and make him moan. But he couldn't. 

"I swear they were there! Where the fuck- Oh, okay."

Peter straightened his posture and presented the brand new beauties. They were half-covered, with a high platform, but not high enough to be pleasers. Still, they had shiny spikes all over their heels and Peter absolutely loved them.

"I'm keeping them after I quit. All my female friends here are envious!" Peter beamed, grinning, finally in a good mood. Needless to say, his nervousness slowly disappeared, the old self-confidence and determination replacing it.

"They're awesome. I can't stop being shocked by how you move in those heels." Quentin admitted with adoration.

"Lots of practice. Anyway, let's get dressed, there's no time!" 

Carefully, Peter put his heels down and reached for the black lace underwear. Quentin was asked to turn around for a moment, and he obeyed, his imagination all he had left. After a few more seconds he wondered out loud, "What takes you so long?" and Peter told him to finally "Check this out".

This was nothing Quentin had been prepared for. He should have expected Peter to wear this sort of clothes, but his heart would never stop skipping a beat every time he saw the boy like that. Long, slim legs covered in fitting stockings connected to the silky panties. A black choker with a silver ring attached to it, imitating some kind of dog collar. Lips in a shade of red Quentin couldn't name, but surely loved at the first sight. And those high heels, emphasizing his long limps and shapely figure. 

Quentin wanted to kiss him so bad. To hold him, take him to his bed. God, the things I wanna do to you, Peter...

"...You look. Marvelous." Beck's throat seemed to be blocked, his breath almost failing to make its way through his lungs. 

He approached Peter and they both focused on the huge mirror in front of them, analyzing whatever it was that they wanted to analyze. Suddenly, Peter felt like all the confidence he'd gained, left somewhere and forgot to come back. He hated this swing of emotions. He hated that his mood could change just like that, in a second. 

"It looked better in my head..." Peter spoke, his face worried. "I don't know, it looked better when I captured it in my mind."

Gently, Quentin touched the small of Peter's back and stood right next to him. "Boy, you look flawless. I'm sure it is so much better than it did in your head." He wanted to add that the panties and the tiny belts connecting them to the stockings accentuated his butt just perfectly, but it didn't seem appropriate just now. "You're a beautiful man, Peter. You got this."

Peter took a deep breath, relaxed his muscles and kept his head high, trying to restore his power so that he could rule the stage and Quentin's little heart. 

"I got this." He whispered to himself. "I got this. I got this."

He gave Quentin's reflection the last look and reached for a bottle of water in his backpack. Liquid running down his throat, he thought about his final minutes in this place. Truth be told, he has been waiting for that moment for a very long time; probably since he started working there. And it wouldn't happen in the near future if Quentin wasn't there to drag him out of this. Peter looked at his friend and gave him a warm smile. 

"I think it's time for you to go. Take a good seat." 

Quentin nodded, about to tap the boy's shoulder, but he was faster. Peter hugged him, face hidden in Beck's chest, breathing in his scent mixed with perfume. After pulling out, they exchanged awkward gazes, Quentin wished him good luck and left the room, bewitched. 

Of course Peter appeared on the stage covered in a suit, a black hat on his head, moving elegantly to some old classic music. Everyone was dead silent, ready for the big beat drop, including Quentin, who also wondered what song Peter had chosen for the real dance. They hadn't talked about it. 

As the happy music started fading, so did the lights, leaving Peter in dull darkness. He quickly hid behind a wall, which opened after a few seconds of silence, catchy bass line coming from the speakers. Oh fuck, I know this song, Quentin thought. 

The audience cheered as Peter reappeared in his proper outfit. Quentin remained quiet and motionless, only crossing his arms and covering his mouth with one hand. What was truly unbearable for him was that Peter pretended to actually sing, moving his lips along the lyrics. He's never prepared for half naked Peter Parker singing I am your sinner and your whore, looking in his direction, searching for him in the crowd. 

Peter really enjoyed himself this time. Even though he had been stressed out and unsure about his one last appearance and skills, he rocked it. When the lights went off at the end, all he could think about was packing his things and getting "the hell outta here, Mr. Beck!"

All of the sudden for Quentin, the boy threw himself in his arms, hugging him tightly. They stood for a while just enjoying each other's touch, Peter wearing the jacket of his suit he had taken off on the stage, because of the cold. 

"Don't you wanna change into something more comfortable? These heels must be killing your feet." Quentin pointed at them, still holding Peter's shoulders. 

"Nah, I'm good, Mr. Be- Quentin", he quickly corrected himself, seeing the man's face. "I still need to adjust to calling you by your name, sorry."

"Take your time. But I'm not gonna stop making faces every time."

They exchanged quiet laughs and awkward eye contacts, only a few inches of space between them, ignoring the whole world around. Peter forgot about the sweat his skin was covered in, and Quentin didn't mind, emotions vibrant in his entire body, keeping him conscious in all this mess of a strip club. 

"Do you fancy a drink with me? I'm buying", Peter proposed enthusiastically, "Go find my wallet, it's in my backpack!"

"I still have to drive you home, boy. But I think I'll take something light."

"I'll pick the best non-alcoholic thing they serve, then. Waiting for you at the bar!" 

It took Quentin a while to get back to the backstage room; at the time, Peter was talking to his favorite barman in the club. He never asked Peter for ID, the fact he was a stripper here was enough. Also, in contradiction to others who take care of the bar, he wasn’t judgmental and never asked Peter personal questions to gossip later after work hours or during breaks. They could be considered friends even, if not for the privacy they both wanted to keep safe. At least Harry, the barman, knew Peter’s favorite drinks he served. This time he decided to surprise him a little. 

As they were chatting cheerfully, Quentin returned with the wallet and sat next to the young man.

“Here”, he placed it on the counter, “I see you already got your drink. What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s one of my top five drinks here, called Raspberry Cosmopolitan”, Peter explained, “It’s got raspberries, lemon juice, vodka and prosecco. And a pretty little flower, as you see.”

“It’s bittersweet in taste, just like Peter’s shows” added the barman, making the said boy laugh and his cheeks turn red. He looked lovely, his eyes turning the gaze on the floor for a second, out of modesty. 

Quentin raised his eyebrows in mild consternation, “Yeah, exactly. What do you have for me, then?” 

“This fella here asked for a top-notch non alcoholic beverage for a top-notch handsome man”, Harry finished pouring a red crimson liquid into the glass filled with pomegranate, lemon and leaves of mint, “So I prepared this for you, Mr. Beck.”

He put the glass right in front of Quentin, who examined the aesthetic beverage he’d just been served and tried it. A couple of arils from the fruit fell into his mouth, so he chewed them while tasting the whole drink on his tongue. Both Peter and the barman were looking at him impatiently, waiting for the verdict. 

“It’s… It is outstanding. I love it.” Quentin took another sip, Peter visibly exhaling in relief. „What is it?”

„Pomegranate mojito mocktail. One of the most wanted here.” Harry proudly raised his chin a little. „Kind of like your friend here, you could say.”

Peter complained jokingly, trying to emphasize his indifference towards Harry Osborn. He watched Quentin choke on his drink slightly, but he handled it well, hiding his mouth with his hand, coughing twice and placing his drink back on the counter. 

„Anyway”, he grunted, „How much for these two?”

„On the house, Mr. Beck”, Harry winked to him, „I’m guessing it’s your last night here, so let’s make it sort of a farewell gift. Everyone’s gonna miss sweet-Pete and his sweet little ass.”

The thing was, Quentin was a rational human being and he knew he shouldn’t have felt jealousy, he wasn’t involved in anything serious with Peter, they were friends of course, maybe close friends even, but that was it. Friends aren’t usually jealous of each other’s romantic interests. Quentin was uncomfortable with the way Harry was talking about Peter nonetheless, and he hoped more and more to leave the club as soon as possible. Almost like the first night he’d been there with his colleagues. When he’d seen Peter in his second work. When their relationship had actually started to somewhat develop.

Peter probably noticed he was ill at ease, because as he finished his drink pretty quickly, he announced, „Alright, I really need to get out of here, for real now. Let’s go grab my things, shall we, Mr. Quentin?”

He nodded, sighing discreetly, „Yeah, let’s do that. It’s getting late.”

„Nice to meet you, Mr. Handsome Beck!” Harry reached out to him, and they shook hands, Quentin honoring him with a fake smile. The new nickname he was just given made him cringe enough already.

He was quiet the whole time they were walking to Peter’s room, and he preferred keep it that way, but forgot about Peter’s abilities to feel other people’s states.

„Is everything okay?” Almost done changing and packing, he asked. „You seem kind of… off.”

„Just tired.” But Peter didn’t believe him. „Seriously. Your friend’s implications made me want to cover myself in the sheets and never go out.”

Peter chuckled, „Are you jealous, Mr. Beck? You’re jealous!”

„Yeah, yeah, call it whatever you want, kid” Quentin waved his hand vaguely, with not enough strength to argue. „Let’s just get you home safe.”

Obediently, Peter packed last pieces of clothing he owned and stood straightly in front of Quentin, letting him know he was ready. Due to the weather outside and the fact he was still hot after so much physical activity, he put on a short skater skirt, light and flimsy, covering most of his thighs. It did not go unnoticed by Quentin, who chose to point out something else than how aroused Peter made him feel, „Uh, you’re not changing your shoes?” Indeed, Peter stayed in his brand new favorite heels that matched the skirt perfectly. „Nah, they’re awesome. My sneakers have to wait” he waved his hand. Walking down the corridor to the back exit, some of Peter’s fellow coworkers exclaimed a few „bye, Pete!” or „see you around, Petey-boy!” He was, for real, adored by everyone who he worked with, and no wonder about that. 

The black matte Audi was parked near the building, under surveillance of one of the club’s bodyguards. It was the man who had recognized peter once and contacted Tony about his discovery, so he kindly agreed to the deal offered by Peter’s older friend. Quentin gave him a hundred dollar bill, „Thank you for watching over her every time, it won’t happen again.” The bodyguard didn’t ask any questions, just nodded his head and hid the money in his pocket. Peter had his eyes everywhere but on him, feeling somewhat ashamed he got recognized just like that by some random dude Tony just happened to know. He had promised himself to be careful, but he had failed right on the start, having caused a lot of unnecessary conversations between him and his boss.

It was sort of a tradition for Peter to ask Quentin if he’d like to come in, but most of the times he had to decline the offer, drive straight home and get off in the shower, thinking of Peter’s body, movements and behavior in general.

„Come on, Mister… Quentin, Quentin! Come on, Mr. Quentin Beck, don’t do this to me. We should at least celebrate a little my last night in this god-forsaken nightmare.”

Peter was so convincing and so charming, Quentin didn’t know how to resist. He agreed without any further rational thinking and got out of the car, and let the boy grab his hand and lead him to the apartment. Quickly unlocking the door, Peter gave him a genuine smile, seemingly tired though. The moment they went in, he threw his bag on the floor and walked to the living room, craving to sit somewhere. 

„I’m so fucking tired, Mr. Beck, you know? I’ve no idea how I’m gonna get up in the morning.” He sighed, leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed and legs crossed. That way Quentin could see his thighs prettily exposed by the black skirt contrasting with pale skin. Peter had incredibly beautiful legs and cute feet, especially when he was wearing heels. Beck just stood there in the living room and stared at him with hungry gaze, taking the opportunity since Peter was resting his eyes. After a while though, he came to the thought that he should take care of the boy, who was about to fall asleep on the couch.

„Do you need anything to eat? Any help?” 

„Mmmh…” Peter hummed, tilting his head to Quentin and opening his eyes just a little; then he reached out to him, gesturing significantly. „Come ’ere, Mr. Beck…” He mumbled, almost whispering. 

And he did as asked, he joined Peter on the couch. „Closer” he heard, and he didn’t want to make Peter sad, so he obeyed. „Mmh, Mr. Beck, you’re here…” The boy moved so their bodies were touching, put his head on Quentin’s chest and arms close to his own. As he was cuddling into Quentin’s body, he kept babbling, „You’re the only one who understands me, you know..? Who’s there for me…”

It can’t be true, Quentin thought, you’ve got Tony, MJ, Ned, you’ve got all the people in the world who love and support you. All these dancers at the club? They were all in love with you, Pete. 

But, in the end, it was him who dragged him out of this crap. In fact, Tony could do it much earlier by paying the kid from the start, but he didn’t do it because of reasons Quentin was too tired to hear about. Where was MJ? Probably too busy with journalist work, and he couldn’t blame her for it. She cared about Peter for sure and so did Ned, there was no doubt about that. They were good friends after all. But Quentin Beck was the one who made Tony rethink his actions. 

Peter put his mouth on Quentin’s neck, alarming him immediately.

„Peter”, he held him, slightly forcing to make eye contact, „Peter. Are you drunk?” 

„What, no, Mr. Beck, come on!” He turned out to be all clear-headed and able to talk. „I’m just, I don’t know…”

Quentin chuckled softly, „You’re what, Peter?”

„I don’t know..!” He shook his head, „I guess I just… wanted to break some ice, or something…”

„Break some ice?” Quentin echoed slowly, „I thought we did that already.” His voice was quiet and smooth, hypnotizing Peter completely. „We don’t need to break any ice anymore, Pete.”

Big, brown, curious eyes stared at him blandly, as if examining, taking notes. „Well, then… I think I…”

To make sure he wasn’t forcing anything, Quentin waited patiently for the boy. With a little bit of hesitation, Peter leaned in and touched Quentin’s lips with his own. He was so nervous that he forgot to close his eyes, and withdrew quickly. He expected everything to go wrong from now on, but all he got from Quentin was a sweet encouraging smile. There was nothing to be afraid of, his kind face was saying.

In fact, the vodka he'd had in the club didn't hit him that hard, and he was completely aware of his actions and its further consequences. But to straightforwardly admit to the need of kissing Quentin right in front of him was nothing he was willing to do. 

"I can go if you want me to-" Quentin wanted to remind him.

"I-I really do not want you to go right now." Peter giggled uncontrollably, shaking his head. "I don't know what I'm gonna do when you leave."

"Well, taking a proper shower and going to sleep seems like the best idea. We've got work in the morning." As always, Beck never failed to be the brain of the situation. Even though he really, e x t r e m e l y wanted to grab Peter's hips and bend him over the nearest table. And do many, many things to him. 

Peter groaned and fell into Quentin's arms, helpless. He loved his internship and he was finally paid for it, but he still hated waking up early. Especially when Quentin Beck was right next to him, mutually aroused and ready to go further with what they had. 

"I'm gonna head to my apartment now, Peter," the older man informed, his lips against Peter's hair, "Go to bed and see you at work, okay?"

He heard a heavy sigh, and then a mumbled "okay". 

Of course they kissed each other goodbye when Quentin was leaving.

And, needless to say, they both needed to jerk off at least twice before being able to fall asleep eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Peter danced to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GurkREc-q4I  
my boyfriend's story you TOTALLY need to check out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782859
> 
> i hope you like it! i enjoy writing this so much, but oh god, it takes so much energy and will and everything to just start wtf


End file.
